


Never Turn Your Back on the Sea

by The_Degu



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blood and Injury, Canon Asexual Character, Fae & Fairies, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Little Mermaid Elements, Major Character Injury, Medium Burn, Memory Alteration, Mistaken Identity, Modern, Multi, Seaside, Tags Contain Spoilers, Updates Mondays, alternate universe - no fears gods, crutch user jon, everyones a monster in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Degu/pseuds/The_Degu
Summary: After martin's mum dies, Peter welcomes him to live in his summer home while he's away. While there, Martin makes new friends, finds something odd on the beach, and finds out there is a little more to the world than he initially thought.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 33
Kudos: 152





	1. one cannot look at the sea without wishing for the wings of a swallow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ― Sir Richard Francis Burton

It is a month and a half after the funeral, Martin’s mind is still fogged as he drives. He distantly wonders if his brain will ever clear or if he would be this husk of a man for the rest of his life. Maybe he had always been like this, and his Mum’s death just pulled away from the facade of being okay, perhaps he was always this empty shell. 

The road is quiet as he made the last leg of his trip. The only sound is the wind, crashing waves, and the white noise of the radio. The land is flat, just the scrubby trees and overgrown grass filling hiss view, he can see between the tree breaks to the rocky cliffs and get glimpses of the distant ocean. 

It is cresting into dusk as Martin pulls into the parking space next to the gorgeous summer home. It is a small Italian-style villa, miles from the nearest town, pressed close to the jagged cliffs. One floor with windows covering most of the sides. A footpath leads off of the back door and down the cliffside. It’s beautiful in the setting sun. 

Part of Martin wonders why Peter would want to live anywhere else. Peter, Martin’s godfather, was vaguely involved in Martin’s life but nothing beyond the occasional happy birthday or Christmas card, until Mum died. It had been years since the last time he heard from Peter. Then, during her funeral, Peter offered an open invitation for Martin to live at his seaside summer home. It was unexpected, to say the least, but Peter reminded Martin that he was the closest thing he has to family now, and family has to help family. So once Martin lost his meager-paying job, he had nothing holding him down in London. 

“I’m going to be out on the Tundra until April,” Peter explained over the phone a little over a week ago. “I mean, you can feel free to stay there once I’m back, but I know how we both prefer being alone.”

“Heh yeah,” Martin stammered while looking at his empty flat “I-I-I promise I’ll have my feet under me by then, and out of your hair. I don’t need six months to get myself together, right?”

Martin winces at the memory- how manic he sounded, maybe desperate. He doesn’t need more than six months to get his life together… Especially when he’s restarting his life like this.

The house is… nice, lovely even. Martin walks through, turning on the lights and checking the water. It’s an open floor plan with an airy and bright atmosphere, though on the cold side and sparsely decorated. The furniture has white sheets covering it, and everything has a thin layer of dust. There are few personal items- the only thing Martin finds on his first pass are some seashells, boating memorabilia, and a single black-and-white framed photo of a young Peter and a man Martin does not recognize.

After the first pass, Martin goes and gets his essentials out of the car- leaving the rest of his unpacking for the morning. Not that he packed much, just what he could fit in his tiny four-door and even smaller trailer he got off of craigslist-- which holds the few pieces of furniture he did not sell when he moved out. 

Once the house is checked for damage, water heater turned on, new sheets laid on the guest bed, and overnight bag unpacked it is well past dark and Martin is beyond road weary. By the time his head hits the pillow, he’s passed out.

The next few days pass in a blur of cleaning, unpacking, and stocking the villa. A trip to town is a 30-minute drive one way, so Martin tries- and fails- to not go often. On the third day in a row, he makes his way into the general store, list in hand, and the clerk at the counter calls over to him.

“Need help finding anything today, sir?” the handsome man who has been working there all three days, Tim, by his nametag, asks.

“Oh, uh no,” Martin stammers, “just need dish soap- I forgot it yesterday.”

“Ah! Isle six” Tim flashes a bright smile that Martin pretends not to feel his cheeks warm to. He takes a moment in the aisle to center himself before returning to check out. The transaction is quick with only a few items, but Tim scribbles something on Martin’s receipt and winks, “just so you don’t need to come in again.”

Martin glances down at the receipt to see a phone number “ah-uh I’m sorry- I’m not- well I am. But not right now?”

Tim raises a hand, “it’s okay if you just want a friend then. Not many people like us out here and its good to have people you can trust.” 

“Yeah- I guess I’ll see you around then? I’ll text you, so you have my number later.”

After Martin heads out of the shop, he checks his watch and sees that it’s still early afternoon. Part of him wants to go back to the villa now, but part of him decides that he should at least get to know his new home a bit better. The main street, if you can call it that, is mostly taken up by tourist shops and novelty stores. There are a handful of restaurants and coffee shops as well, but it’s the offseason, so the streets are quiet, and most of the shops close early. Martin ducks his head into a few, not buying anything but just looking at the tchotchkes and knickknacks. Between the stores and coffee shops is a tiny local museum.

It’s pretty late so Martin debates whether he should go in so soon before closing, but he figures just poking his head in won’t be an issue. It’s quiet inside, the only sound a distant tv showing a documentary of some sort. It smells of dust, old wood, and even older books. It’s small but lovingly put together, just a single room with a divider in the middle. There are a few display cases, an anchor, and a rowboat hanging from the sealing. There is also an empty desk and a donation box right inside the door.

Seeing no one else in the museum, Martin drops a fiver into the box before continuing in. He wanders around, glancing at the exhibits about the history of the town and the neighboring seas. There is nothing too unexpected; just displays about how it was an army base for some earl or duke, famous and influential residence. Though there is one display that does stick out a bit. A single glass display case talking about local mermaid sightings and the history of sightings. It has a large fish scale, a mother-of-pearl comb, and a few very blurry photographs. The newest piece of ‘evidence’ coming from the mid-60s, a blurry polaroid of a fishtail breaching the waves. 

Martin reads the caption for the photo “this photograph was taken by a young Elias Bushard on March 14th, 1967. It depicts the tailfin of a descending mermaid after their brief interaction. 

“Elias did not make a comment on their interactions besides describing the mermaid as ‘handsome’ and ‘unlike anything he had seen before.”

many critics cite that this fin appears to be either a branching dolphin or large fish. Did Mr. Busard see a mermaid this day, or did he take a photo of an animal? You decide”

Martin snorts as he finishes the inscription, he’s always been a fan of myths, but they’re nothing besides a little fun. In that way, he does not believe that cryptids or myths actively exist. Still, he also wouldn’t be hugely surprised to find out that some sort of supernatural creature has been hiding.

He’s so taken up in his thoughts he jumps when a voice comes from near the door. “Were closing in five minutes, if you want to look at the gift shop, now’s your time.”

Martin turns sheepishly to the woman who made the announcement. A wide-shouldered woman with long scars across her face. She wears light clothing except for her combat boots and some sort of fur shawl across her shoulders.

“Oh, sorry- just reading about the mermaids.”

“Yeah yeah, cryptid hunting?”

“Oh no, just new to town- I think stories like this are just fun.”

The woman just hums in response, looking slightly annoyed “well, you can read all about it… tomorrow” 

“Oh, uh yeah, thank you. The museum is lovely.”

“Yup” 

Martin quickly walks out the door, the woman’s eyes burning into his back. Maybe he’ll come back tomorrow- if that woman isn’t working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The work's title is a quote from Duke Kahanamoku. Anyway! Here is my first long-format fic for TMA I'm hoping to post every Monday, I have a bit of a backlog now, so hopefully I'll be able to keep it up. I don't expect this to be super long, no more then ten or eleven chapters if that, but famous last words and all that.  
> I'd also like to thank What Belongs to the Sea and Dustsceawung for inspiring me to do a little heavier of an au and I apologize in advance if I accidentally steal any elements.  
> also, I'd love to see y'all's guesses for what monsters/creatures/fae the characters are as things progress- I'll add them to the tags as Martin finds out. The first few are pretty easy, and you can probably guess one from the tags, but I'm not going to show my hand right now. and when I say everyone is a monster I mean everyone.  
> also also I am a mere American going off of pop media for British slang, but I will try to use my mums, crips, and flats appropriately


	2. Nothing is missing from my life when I have the ocean by my side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Noel Jhinku

"So, how are you liking the place?" Peter asks over the phone. His line rough and cracking over satellite.

"It's nice" Martin struggles to expand "I uh I'm going out for drinks with some people I met- later tonight."

Peter hums, "really?... surprising."

Martin laughs a bit "yeah, surprised me too. The manager of the general store actually. He saw me come in a few times and invited me."

Peter hums, sounding disinterested "well, I'm glad you're making friends. Good to have people you trust."

"Yeah"

"Well, I must be going; it was lovely talking to you, Martin. But I have duties I must attend to."

"Oh, uh yeah, talk to you soon, I guess."

"Probably not!"

There is a click, and the line goes quiet before Martin even has a chance to say goodbye. He looks at his phone, not knowing to laugh or be pissed off.

Martin sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He really does not feel like going out tonight; maybe he should just call it off while he's ahead. He just kind of wants to sit in bed and stare at the wall for the rest of the day, which sounds much less stressful and overwhelming than going out. He looks over to his closet and frowns at the half-unpacked clothes strewn throughout. Calling peter sapped all of his energy for the day, but calling Tim sounds like just as much of a hell as going out- and going out will mean he doesn't disappoint other people. Maybe he'll just stay for an hour, have a drink and say he has a headache- blame it on the tannins. Martin rubs his eyes and rolls out of bed before getting ready. 

An hour or so later, the sky has opened up and started drizzling. Nothing terrible, just overcast and wet, enough to be annoying. The seas below are whipping up as well; Martin can hear their roaring as he enters his car and drives off.

The Pub Tim invited martin to lie on the outskirts of town, so it is not a far drive or even impossible to walk if the fancy takes him. Martin wouldn't be lying if he said the name of the Pub made him slightly put off. The imagery of a place called 'The Maiden's Bosom' does not spark large amounts of trust, but driving up and seeing the HRC sticker on the door and the pride flags on the back wall once he pushes in soothes his concerns immensely. He also sees where the Pub gets its name, from the scantily clad mermaid figurehead that sits as the centerpiece of the bar, right above the taps.

"Ay! Martin, you made it!" Tim calls from a large booth mostly filled with people Martin does not know. "Martin, this is everyone, everyone, Martin."

Martin gives a shy wave while the group scoots around to make room. He feels deeply unwanted as he tries to sit down in the space they made for him.

"I'm Sasha," the woman sitting next to Tim says, "that's Georgie, Melanie, and I think daisy will be joining us in a bit."

"oh, okay," Martin mumbles.

"So!" Tim claps his hands "as I was saying, I do not get the point of Godzilla vs. King Kong! like Kong is a quarter of the size of Godzilla…"

Martin laughs at Tim's antics and his continuing argument with Melanie. Georgie gives him a glance at one point that says, 'this is an argument they've been having for weeks,' and Martin just giggles a little more, slowly feeling more comfortable. Martin is not a social person by any extent. Still, he does like getting to know new people, this is the first time he's been out since mum got really sick, and even though he can feel his batteries quickly draining, he has to say he's been having a good time.

About an hour after Martin arrives, a familiar-looking woman comes up to the table. The woman that works at the museum, with her short hair, army-style clothing, and strange fur shawl. Her boots clunk on the ground as she approaches, and she already has a beer in her hand as the others scoot around to make room.

"Ay!" Georgie greets from where she sits, her cheeks red, and she's leaning heavily on Melanie. "Daisy, my second favorite girl."

"What am I chopped liver?" Sasha asks from across the table.

"You're outstanding too."

Martin looks back over to Daisy, who looks unimpressed at the conversation in front of her. Martin shifts and reaches out a hand to shake, "I'm Martin blackwood. I went to your shop the other day."

"Yeah," Daisy slides in on the other side of Tim and sizes up Martin; her body language is imposing but relaxed at the same time. "I'm Allice, but everyone calls me Daisy. Do not call me Allice."

There is a heaviness to her words that sends a chill up Martin's spine "okay, nice to meet you, Daisy."

"No, Jon, today?" Tim asks.

"Nope- wasn't feeling up to it. And has to get ready for the storm."

Tim nods and hums in understanding. Now that the whole group is here, the feeling of being out of place starts to overwhelm Martin. As inside jokes are passed, and entire conversations are shared with glances, the creeping feeling of sensory overload and his self-deprecating voice starts to eat at Martin's insides. It is becoming too much, and at this point, it would not be a lie.

"well, I'm sorry to call this short-"

"Oh, you're heading out?" Tim immediately asks sitting up straight in his seat

"I'm getting a bit of a headache from the drinks is all," Martin explains, even though he's only nursed at the one pint over the couple of hours, he's been at the Pub.

"Where do you live? I can drive you if you'd like."

"Oh no, I wouldn't-"

"It's no issue."

"I-you're having a good time here; I don't want to break it up."

Tim waves a hand "I have work in the morning. I should be getting home too."

Martin lets out a breath and looks beyond Tim. shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Tim seems to think for a moment, "oh, it's cool if you don't want to, though. Was just offering"

"Uh yeah thank you, it's just that I drove here and don't want to leave my car-"

Tim waves his hand again, "I get it. stay safe out there!"

Martin stands and says his goodbyes, promising to come to their next get-together. Martin sighs and hikes up his jacket when he sees that the earlier drizzle has turned into a downpour, and if the distant rolling thunder is anything to go by, it will not be stopping any time soon. By the time Martin pulls into the parking space at the villa, he kind of wishes he let Tim drive him, with the sidewise rain and flashing lightning. 

The house creeks under the onslaught, but feels solid. Being so high above the shoreline, being on solid rock, and the house being relatively new, Martin just repasses the storm shutters and locks the doors for the night. He makes a cup of tea and sits in front of the radiator, until he starts to dose, then heading to bed, trying not to think of the boiling sea below him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, ch2 on time!  
> slightly tweaked the tags, which I will probably continue doing as we go on and I write more of the story. I removed a couple of ship tags that were not important to the story (though they will still be here) and added the medium burn tag.


	3. one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick or, the Whale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> use of it/its for a semi-human creature that turns into he/him as pov gets acquainted in this chapter.

Martin sighs and rubs his eyes as he rises the next day. The storm has passed, but the sound of thunder and the rumbling seas below kept him up for longer than what he is usually comfortable with. That and he finds himself rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn, unable to get back to sleep. Martin has no plans for the day– and thinks that is most likely a good thing with how burnt out he feels. Yesterday was a lot for him. He staggers out into the kitchen feeling his phone buzz in his pocket as he works on breakfast.

**Peter** : Heard, you had a storm last night. Will want to check out the beech- clean up any garbage washed up. -p

Martin didn't even know Peter knew how to text, so he just stares at his phone for a moment before returning.

**Martin** : sure thing! :)

Martin pours his tea into a thermos, grabs a few trash bags, and a pocketknife before heading down the path leading to the beach. Maybe beech isn't fully the right word– its gravel, not sand, and more of a tiny bay or lagoon with tidepools that jut up into the dark stone cliff face. It's still beautiful, just not the Bahamas. 

Peter was correct to say some garbage would wash up– along with the rusted lawn furniture that is kept down there, and tangled on the small dock lays plastics, nets, logs and a few dead fish. 

Martin frowns at the waist and the job he has in front of him. When he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Behind one of the washed-up logs, a huge fish-like tail rises up and then hits the ground with a loud thump. Martin just stairs for a moment before another bout of thrashing breaks him out of the spell of his daze. He drops the garbage bags but keeps the pocketknife as he runs over to the thrashing animal.

Martin turns around the huge log and stops dead in his tracks when two very-human eyes peer back at him. It looks just as terrified to see him as martin feels. It thrashes again, and martin gasps when he sees the net it's tangled in digs into its flesh. Its body is wrapped nearly completely in nylon holding the mermaid? Merman? Mer's arms and hands to its side and chest. It's more human-like half is a dark brown with sparse iridescent scales dotting its body. It has long sleek hair that is mostly dry now, and needle-sharp teeth that is bears at Martin. The mer's lower half is long and sleek, with those same brown-green scales, with a lighter underside and dark eyespots where its hips would be. It also has dangerous-looking spines on its forearms and dorsal fin- which it flexes out to the best that it can in its bound state.

"Oh, shit." martin whispers.

The mer hisses. 

Martin breaks from his stupor and takes a couple of careful steps forward hands raised and body low. "It's okay- I have a pocketknife- I-I-I can get that net off you, okay?"

The mer eyes just flash up to martin, untrusting, and lip still curled. Martin doesn't even know if it understands him, but it does not thrash or attack when he gets closer, just holding still its breathing labored. Watching its heavy breath, Martin vaguely recalls reading about how dolphins and whales suffocate via their own weight when they're beached. The mer's body is the size of a human's, but he doesn't know the thing's anatomy to tell if its lungs are up there or in its massive fish-like lower half, or if it even has lungs. Oh god, what if it breathes through gills? Should he get a bucket of water to dunk its head in? What if the net is suffocating it? Martin just hovers over the mer's body frozen with indecision.

"A-arms first," the Mer wheezes startling martin out of his daze.

Something in martin's brain snaps. He was not expecting the Mer to be able to talk– let alone have a BBC English accent. Martin just stairs at the mer for longer than comfortable. It rolls its eyes at him, "untangle my arms first- I can help you get my tail then."

"oh yes sorry just-just let me-"

Martin begins cutting away at the net. The tiny scissors and dull knife take their time getting through the thick nylon. The mer hisses and wriggle as Martin has to pull the net to make room. He quickly gets the mer's arms free and moves lower, the extra set of hands is indispensable as he untangles the mer’s dorsal fin and lower body. Martin winces as he looks at the worst of it– where the net has started to bite into the flesh of the mer- leaving weeping wounds around the thinnest part of its tail. Martin steadies himself and starts cutting at the net there. He tries to pull gently at the net; to make room for the knife, but The mer cries out, and the next thing martin knows, he's sprawled out on his back a jabbing pain in his forearm.

"Shit" The mer pulls himself over to martin, blood on the spines of his dorsal fin.

"Ah," martin looks at the gash in his arm, "got me there."

"I'm sorry I-"

Martin just takes a deep breath and smiles at the mer, "it's okay- I should have warned you."

The mer still looks horrified, but martin goes back to work. This time, making sure he's not in the line of fire again. It takes some hissing and cursing, but the last piece of net is cut away. The mer runs its hands down its tail, seeming to assess the damage. Martin knows it will probably scar where the net bit into its flesh, but with the scattered scars across the mer's body, it won't stand out too much.

"So, the storm last night?" martin asks the mer. The mer looks away from its injured tail, and up at Martin.

He hums in agreement "yes, had to get some work done, and got caught. Stupid, really."

The mer rubs his eyebrows, annoyed. He takes a deep breath, "thank you, though. What is your name?"

"Oh!" Martin giggles awkwardly "yeah I'm Martin Blackwood-"

"I do not have much respect for humans, Martin Blackwood. And you will not remember this encounter- but it is tradition for me to give you my blessing."

"Wait- I won't remember" martin stammers, but the Mer ignores his question.

"For saving my life, Martin blackwood, you have my blessing of the sea- you, your kin, and your possessions will not be harmed by sea, storm, or the sky, as long as you are in my territory."

The mer mutters something under his breath then, and martin just looks at him. Martin blinks 

once 

Twice.

Martin rolls over with a groan, digging his face into his pillow. His alarm clock on his phone is blaring on the nightstand. He picks up his phone, blinking the sleep out of his eyes- it's unusual for him to not wake up long before his alarm, but he guesses the storm probably kept him up some last night. He blinks and slowly sits, mind foggy– there is a trace of a dream in his head but nothing beyond a beautiful face, and the scraps of the narrative connected to it. Martin tries to remember anything, but the dream is fleeting, so he lets it go.

He stands and stretches but hisses through his teeth when he feels a sharp tug at his arm. He stops and looks at the rather large gash- it scabbed over but was opened back up and trickles a line of blood down his arm. It looks pretty ugly, and Martin has no idea where he got it, but that mystery will have to wait until the wound is clean and bandaged. Martin wonders if he just had more to drink last night then he remembers, that has to be it, because any other explanation does not make sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oohh hey is that a bit of plot I smell? in the distance? maybe?  
> lol anyway did you know: according to national geographic and seas Shepherd global (a direct action ocean conservation nonprofit), that drinking straws make up 0.025% of ocean plastics while commercial fishing nets make up a whopping 46%-48%.  
> though that's a whole soapbox I do not feel like climbing onto as of this moment  
> thank you so much for the feedback kudos/comments I've been getting on this work. I really appreciate it, and it always feeds me <3


	4. it had colors and shapes, turning green or black under approaching storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Jennifer Zeynab Joukhadar, The Map of Salt and Stars

It is a little over a week after the mysterious stabbing incident, and martin’s dreams have been devoured by that dark-eyed man, sometimes he looks human, but more consistently he has that same dream of saving him as a mer. Which martin chocks up to the town’s apparent obsession with imagery and folktales surrounding the myth. 

Martin rather pointedly looks up at the maiden who hangs above the bar where he is waiting for his drink. Martin is actually feeling marginally good today, and Tim capitalized on the opportunity to have him come out with the group again to The Maiden's Bosom. Nearly everyone is coming according to the group text-which Martin is marginally excited for. It reminds him of the handful of times he went out with friends when he was younger, friends of friends tagging along until you had a dozen people all loosely connected but enjoying each other’s company. Not something Martin ever really enjoyed or had been a part of more than once or twice, but he could see the appeal. 

Making his way over to the booth with his Drink in hand Martin sees Sasha, Tim, and Melanie; already seated and chatting. 

“Hey, Martin!” Sasha says with her usual bright smile

“Oh hi!” Martin greets back, making his way into the booth “did you do something with your hair?”

“Yeah, I like changing it every once in a while.” Sasha smiles brightly.

“Martin!” Tim cheers from his seat “I'm glad you could make it! Jon’s coming today! So you’ll have met everyone except Basira now!”

“Oh, uh that’s nice,” Martin says “can’t wait to meet her then.”

Tim continues “yeah! She works late-so she doesn’t make it often, but she tags along with Daisy sometimes. Oh! That reminds me too- Do you want to come over this weekend? Me and sash’ are redoing our front room and I’d love to show you the place.”

Sasha elbows Tim in the ribs after his comment, and Tim gives her a confused look. The two have a silent conversation before Tim groans, leans back in his seat, and runs his hand over his face “shit sorry forget I asked- scheduling conflict.”

“Oh! No problem.” martin gives out a nervous laugh “I don’t want to interfere with date night or anything heh.”

Tim peeks from behind his hand “what? No- it’s just the moon is all.”

Martin is about to ask what Tim means by that but is interrupted by Daisy’s voice “make room”

Martin glances and greets Daisy, Georgie, and a man that makes his breath catch. He just looks at the man dumbfounded, as the rest of the group slides around making room for the newcomers. The man looks a bit road weary, dark circles under his eyes, long hair set into a loose bun, and he is leaning heavily on a set of forearm crutches. It is unmistakably literally the man from martin’s dreams.

“Hi, Martin!” Georgie waves from the other side of the table. She gestures between Martin and the new person “Jon this is martin, Martin- Jon!”

“Good to meet you” Jon reaches out a hand to shake, which martin takes. His tongue is tied as he gapes at the other man.

“Ah, I see Tim has befriended another bright one” Jon remarks dryly, which gets him an elbow in the ribs from Georgie. Martin clears his throat trying to ignore his cheeks heating up. He clears his throat and asks in a more quiet tone, as the others at the table chat “have we- uh- have we met before?”

Jon blinks up at martin and frowns “no, I don’t think so.”

“It’s just-” Martin stammers, scratching the back of his neck, “I think I’ve dreamt of you- not in a weird way! but y’know”

“No, I do not know” Jon’s frown deepens “maybe you’ve seen me while you were out, it is a small town.”

“Yeah uh maybe- probably,” martin says shifting in his seat. Soon enough the waiter comes around and gets the rest of the table’s orders, and the table descends into the uproarious and loud mess it was last time. Martin takes mental note of how different yet the same the dynamic is now that Jon is here. It’s hard to tell if anyone at the table really likes him as he is left out of conversation nearly as much as Martin is. Martin wonders if he’s just new too or if his prickly remarks are what keep the others at bay. Though throughout the night- it seems like either Tim or daisy have a casual arm slung around his shoulders, and he gives small private smiles to different stories or bits of chatter that make Martin’s heart leap up into his throat. 

“So…” martin finds a space in the conversation “how long have you all known each other?”

“Oh boy” Tim scratches the back of his neck. “I moved out here 2009? 2010? met Jon at the historical society- the museum before it was a museum.”

“Yes and you proceeded to harass me every day until we ‘became friends.’” Jon put air quotes around the last two words. “Also got Tim a Job at the Museum”

Tim blows a raspberry and looks to Martin “if they offer you a job refuse on the spot. No pension is with working for Elias”

Jon rolls his eyes.

“Actually almost all of us have worked there at some point or another” Sasha says “met both of the boys there when I got recommended from my job in London. Seemed like a fresh start with friendly faces.”

“Just don’t steal them,” Melanie says into her mug, getting her a smack on the arm from Georgie.

“What?!” Melanie looks up with a sharp smile “he’s one of us I can tell jokes like that” 

There are a couple of shared glances around the table, and martin feels deeply uncomfortable. 

“I uh new Jon from UNI,” Georgie finally breaks the uncomfortable quiet “I decided to come out here when city living became too much. I needed to reconnect with nature- and took Melanie with me.”

Georgie takes Melanie’s hand and rubs her thumb over her knuckles.

“I arrested Jon” Daisy does not expand on the information.

Jon sighs looking uncomfortable “it was Tim who decided that me and everyone I know had to start getting together for regular drinks.”

“And that’s because I always have the best ideas” Tim winks at Martin.

“Well, I'm glad you invited me to your group” Martin smiles shyly “I uh- I was afraid I was just… going to isolate while I was here-”

“You’re staying at the Lucas place right?” Jon asks.

“Oh uh yeah”

There is another silence “he’s my godfather- and uh, he invited me to live there- to get back on my feet.”

“Yeah- that’s really nice of him,” Georgie says with a soft smile “just- make sure to keep in contact okay.”

Martin sputters “that’s not ominous at all!”

The people at the table laugh Georgie says “sorry sorry- and don’t take it the wrong way Peter is just an ass, we’ve all had interactions with him and-”

“He is the embodiment of ‘okay boomer’” Tim interrupts

“No that would be Elias,” Jon says from behind his drink. the comment gets a few laughs at the table. After the break in tension, the conversation goes back to easy joking and light banter. It’s still tiring but its also nice, it's almost enough to make Martin forget about the constant ache in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so, not my favorite chapter but were getting there. I might be taking next week off due to being out of town, but I hope that I'll be able to post. I'll update on my Tumblr if i think I'll be unable to post.  
> the chapter is written it's just getting it edited and cleaned up- along with refilling my backlog.  
> anyway thank you all so so much for all of the feedback I got last chapter, this fic has been slow-going, but that really helped a lot. tysm!


	5. Hew wood in whind-time, in fine weather sail,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Hávamál, Sayings of the High One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for homophobia, implied/referenced child abuse, minor misogyny, and minor mind control (forcing someone to think about memories they are repressing). from " Swerling blue-green. Martin can’t breathe, the man smiles wider." to "Martin is snapped out of his memories like whiplash when Jon steps between him and the man'  
> also important update in the end notes

It’s the Saturday after the group’s most recent meeting. Martin is having a relatively good day; his head is clear, his body free of much pain, and the weather is beautiful. Nice enough that the hour-long walk to the city center is doable. 

Martin starts out in the early afternoon, and by the time he gets to Mainstreet, there are quite a few people out also enjoying the day. The roads and walkways are far from crowded, but they are not empty like so many of the other times martin has wandered them. It’s sweet, seeing the town liven up with all of the new people, as tourists season edges ever closer. It is also a reminder that Martin needs to get moving on getting his life together again. 

Martin’s first idea was to go see if Tim is working. He’s disappointed to see a clerk he does not recognize. Still, martin shuffles around the store before buying a candy bar and heading out. Cursing his memory that he forgot that Tim specifically said he was spending the day with Sasha. 

Martin nibbles on his chocolates as he wanders towards the museum instead. Thinking that maybe Daisy will be working– she might have an idea of places that are hiring or something to do. Well, if she doesn’t arrest or stab him instead. 

Daisy is not the person working at the museum today. Instead, Martin sees Jon sitting behind the desk. His nose buried in a paperback and feet tucked under his chair. His hair is in a braid, but one piece of hair lays across his face. Martin internally scolds himself when he thinks about gently brushing the hair aside. Instead, Martin clears his throat and says, “Oh hi, Jon!”

“Oh,” Jon looks up, placing his book face-down on the desk “uh, yes you're Martin, right?”

“Heh, yeah.”

“Do… you need anything?”

“Oh, uh, no, I was just on this side of town. Thought I’d stop in.”

Jon frowns deeply. “Well, I’m working, so unless you have any questions, about the museum; I am very busy.”

Martin glances down at the mystery novel Jon was previously reading. Trying not to feel too hurt.

“Yeah!” martin stammers a bit, “I just thought I’d say hi is all.”

Jon hums and picks his book back up “yes well hello, enjoy the museum, the gift shop is over there. I need to get back to work.”

Martin stands there awkwardly for a bit before giving up and stepping into the museum proper. After a bit of mindless wandering, He finds himself in front of the mermaid exhibit again. The scale is an iridescent blue, not the green-brown from his dream. The polaroid is impossible to really tell much detail besides it being a tailfin of some sort. And there is nothing about mermen, just scantily clad women that sailors saw after spending too much time at sea.

Martin sighs and turns; he’s surprised when he sees a man that must have been looming over him without his noticing, and still stands only inches away from Martin. The best word for the man is uncanny; like he’s had one too many facelifts, or his eyes are a little too big for his head. He wears a sharp three-piece suit and has a casual smile across his face, but just being around him makes Martin uneasy.

“Oh, uh hello…” martin says.

The man does not respond for a long moment, his smile only getting wider. “Hello Martin Blackwood, it is so good to finally meet you, Peter Lucas has told me so much about you.”

Martin tries to take a step back but bumps into the display case. His throat feels tight, and his pulse is racing. He cannot look away from the man’s eyes. Swirling blue-green. Martin can’t breathe, the man smiles wider.

Like a fist through a paper wall, memories surge into martin’s mind. Forcing their way to the front of his brain, some of his worst, most painful memories. He remembers when he was ten or eleven, the first time he had to call 999; After mum fell. it was terrifying seeing the men take Mum to the hospital, leaving Martin with the neighbor. It took dad hours to get home from work and take martin to the hospital. 

Dad left not too long after that. Even as the memories are pushed into his mind, Martin cannot remember his face or voice, just a blur of a man. But he does see his mum, crystal clear as she lashed out, she blamed dad, but once dad left well, there was only one other person for her to blame for her illness and pain. 

“We can’t keep this stupid thing,” She said. They were moving from their old flat to a smaller one without a garden, the thing she was pointing at was a large flowerpot. Painted with child-like illustrations of animals and flowers. It was growing several different types of fresh herbs, all of which were bright and healthy. The rest of the flowers in the garden were pushing on overgrown since dad left. Still, the pot was martin’s pride and joy for many years: tomatoes, cucumbers, even a pumpkin one year. Always something useful and raised with as much love and care martin could put into it. 

“But they’ll die!” martin yelled with tiers in his eyes.

“Well, where do you think we’ll keep it, huh, smart man? In your bedroom? The living room? Or maybe that god-awful kitchen.”

“Dad’ll be mad at me for letting it die- he- he said-”

“I do not care what that man said and even more reason to get rid of it. Man-up you’ll be fine.”

He wanted to scream and yell when she ordered the movers to dump the pot into the bins they took. All of dad’s things were gone months before, photos of him followed closely behind. The pot that dad got martin when he was five, to teach him how to grow his own garden was the last thing, and the ceramic shattered as it hit the bottom of the dumpster.

Heard your mum and you moved out of your flat

too bad about that, it was a lovely place. Hope London

.serves you well

Peter-

The letter also held a £100 note, Mum said Peter was his godfather, Martin didn’t even know the man existed until that point. She said he was one of dad’s old friends, and she didn’t like him, but she’d allow martin to read the letters he sent on Christmas and his birthday. The first time Martin met Peter in person was when mum was in hospice.

“Get the hell out of my room,” Mum growled.

“S-sorry,” Martin muttered, “I just- I got you flowers.”

“I said, get the fuck out. I don’t want the last thing I see to be your ungrateful face.”

Martin stammers for a moment “mum-”

Her eyes narrow “I’m going to scream if you don’t leave in the next five seconds.”

Martin knows his mum well enough that she will do it. He raised his hands and slowly backed out.

“Shame about that,” Peter said in the hall. Martin recognized him from some old photos. “No one should die alone. Even if it is around the person, you hate.”

“I-” Martin was unable to form words.

Peter pushed his lips and continued, “it’s good to meet you in person finally! You’re taller than I expected, though your old pa wasn’t exactly the smallest man- you’ve grown into quite the man yourself.”

“Oh, uh, thank you?”

“Don’t mention it. Now you’re free of the old witch I have a proposition for you.”

Martin clenched his fist, “don’t call her that!”

Peter had the gall to laugh, then, “oh! But it’s true, the hag kept me, away, didn’t she?”

Something snapped in martin’s chest at that moment. He didn’t realize what he did until Peter was on the ground clutching his broken nose, and there was blood on Martin’s fist. Martin was forcibly removed from the building. Peter did not press charges, but Martin wasn’t allowed back in to see his mum after he was ‘proven to be violent.’ He remembers sobbing into the phone when they told him that- he tried to explain what happened. Still, they just wouldn’t listen, a zero-tolerance policy they explained. He was no longer allowed on-premises, and mum never picked up her phone.

Martin was fired for not showing up for work. He just couldn’t get himself to get out of bed anymore, let alone leave the flat. It was after the incident but martin couldn’t remember if it was before or after mum died now when peter came over and handed him a £100 note and told him about the villa. That he could go there, and people would be safe from his outburst, and he would have time to put his head on straight. Maybe not in as many words, but that was the sentiment of their conversation. 

“You got a wicked right hook,” Peter laughed, “could be a real man’s man if you wanted to be. Though you’re a bit of a dandy like your pa’”

Martin did not grace Peter with a response for a long moment. He just looked down at the bowl of canned peaches he had and slumped. “I guess so.”

Martin is snapped out of his memories like whiplash when Jon steps between him and the man.

“That is enough, Elias!” Jon shouts.

The man, Elias, looks down at Jon and the two-start exchanging heated words, but martin hears none of it as he takes a step to the side and breaks for the door. He distantly hears Jon call his name, but Martin gets out of the museum as quickly as possible. He barely notices it’s almost dark as he quickly walks towards the edge of town, though his vision is blurred by tears the light of the full moon illuminating the roads keeps him on track towards the villa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so long story short, im really losing motivation for this fic. I do plan on giving it an actual ending but it's just going to go into the main mystery without touching the plot points I had sketched out. I might revisit it in oneshots or another fic, but i would not get my hopes up. I have the next chapter mostly finished and the final chapter is in its first draft so they should come out when they come out. i'd rather have a fic with an ending even if its a bit early then one that is stretched out and I can't get myself to finish it. if someone wants to expand this fic once I'm done have at it and send it to me, I'd love to see it!  
> prob no true Jm in the endgame now, but if I do some oneshots it'd probably be surrounding that. anyway, thank you for reading please stay tune for the final two chapters as they come out over the next couple of weeks. i am out of the house right now so that's why this chapter was delayed and it might happen to the other two, but I'll try to get them out no later than Tuesdays if possible


	6. Anarhichas Lupus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- the Atlantic wolffish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again use of it/its in this chapter as well as some negative self-talk and some very minor animal violence

It is completely dark by the time Martin gets home, and he has mostly calmed down since the interaction at the museum. Though his thoughts are still dark, and he can’t shake the feeling of being watched. His mind retreats to a familiar place of numbness; He’s tired of being like this, feeling so useless, so unwanted. He’s confused too- was that a flashback of some sort? What did Jon do? Is he okay? Why did Ellias just stand there while he was having some kind of panic attack? Thoughts race through martin’s mind.

Martin did not realize he was pacing until he stops and looks around the kitchen. He feels someone watching him, and the only thing around is the window. He goes over and looks out, seeing nothing in the darkness.

“Just being paranoid,” Martin mutters and closes the blinds, but he still feels eyes on him as he goes about his nightly routine. 

It’s only a few minutes later, as Martin is brushing his teeth when he hears a crash from outside. He nearly flings his toothbrush across the bathroom because he jumps so hard. He quickly finishes up and goes over to the front door, listening for what caused the crash. It’s quiet for a long moment. Then there is a snarl and barking along with some type of loud high-pitch screeching. Martin quickly goes over to the window and looks outside, seeing a huge four-legged shape with choppy fur and pointed ears. It’s large enough that martin’s first thought is ‘bear,’ but its shape is all wrong. Something swoops down at the larger shape, and it snaps up at it ripping out a few feathers as the owl flies off. The dog- at least Martin thinks its a dog-- shakes its head flinging the feathers all over.

The dog stops shaking its head and looks around tail wagging happily. It sniffs the air and sneezes before turning around and looking at martin through the window. It cocks its head, trots over to the door, pawing at it and letting out a loud wine. Martin goes over to the door and stares at it wondering if he should let the dog in. It barks loudly, startling Martin. It gives a pathetic whine, and martin does not have the heart to leave it outside any longer.

Martin opens the door, and the dog looks up at him with a dumb dog-smile. Now that it’s closer, Martin can see how big it really is, its head coming past his hip with well-toned muscles underneath. It has smoky black fur that Martin is slightly surprised he could see in the darkness outside. It has a few scratches on its snout presumably from the bird but does not seem to care. Martin extends a careful hand for the dog to sniff.

“Uh, good boy?” martin tries, and the dog leans into is hand, giving it a scratch “heh, you lost?”

Martin sees that the dog is not wearing a collar, but it’s friendly and acting like it owns the place as it walks past martin into the villa. With that being said, it could be normal dog behavior seeing as Martin’s never had one. He thinks it must be a German Shepard mix or something- long fluffy tail pointed ears and snout, dark fur, and really big, bigger than any dog he’s seen. It’s sniffing around the room, periodically stopping and trotting back to martin for a couple of scratches, before returning to its investigation. Martin picks up his phone, having no idea what to do- should he call the pound? Animal control? The police? He looks at his phone and sees he has a string of missed texts in the drinks group chat. He nearly closes it before reading them, but they catch his eye.

**Sasha (to martin + 5others):** heads up Tim just got out. probably just going to visit one of you

**Georgie:** we’ll keep the backdoor unlocked ^^

**Melanie:** Thanks for the warning lol

**Daisy:** B and I will keep an eye but he’s probably just going to see Jon like usual

**Sasha:** Yeah prob, lmk if you see him he seemed distressed before he left

**Basira:** i’ll check in with animal control

**Melanie:** lolol get rekt

**Sasha:** hahaha yeah 

Could you actually send me the animal control phone #? Ty :) : **Martin**

Martin sees the ‘several people are typing’ notification, but he is distracted when the sound of something hitting the floor with a ‘thud.’ He looks into the kitchen and sees the dog has somehow opened the refrigerator, and it is currently trying to open a package of cheese.

“hey, no!” Martin shouts and runs over. The dog’s ears flatten, and it backs away from the food looking rather guilty as it does so. Martin grabs the cheese and shoves it back in the fridge, before picking up his phone again and actually searching on what to do. He sees the dog eyeing the fridge, but it does not make a move for it again.

“Well, google says you should have a microchip. So I guess I’ll bring you down to the vet first thing tomorrow,” Martin says towards the dog. There is a thump-thump-thump the dog’s tail hits the cabinets. Martin can’t help but smile at the dog and give it a pat. “Wish I knew your name, though.”

Martin sighs and goes about making a mental list of things to do. He does not want the dog out and about while he tries to sleep. So he grabs a blanket out of the linen closet and a popcorn bowl to fill with water, placing both of them in the bathroom, where he figures the dog is least likely to completely destroy the house. Even though the dog seems friendly and house-safe, Martin would rather not risk him ruining Peter’s home.

“There you go, boy!” Martin smiles and pats the dog on the head after leading it to the bathroom.

The dog just sniffs at the blanket on the floor before looking up at martin and giving a rather pathetic expression. Martin ignores the puppy-dog eyes the dog gives him and bids it goodnight, closing the door and heading off to bed himself.

As martin lays in bed, he hears the dog scratching at the door and whining. He prays that the dog does not mess up the door too much or destroys the bathroom overnight. Though after an hour or so, the sound stops, and martin sighs in relief after it goes quiet. Drifting off into his usual dream-filled sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin gesturing to a wolf "and this is a dog"  
> anyway, im ready to be done with this fic, like I said i might be doing some connected one-shots (prob just the scenes I want to write but I don't want to write getting to them lol) along with expanding the world some. though after the next chapter the world might be a bit familiar to some people ;)  
> anyway thank you all so much for the love i got last chapter i really enjoyed all of your comments!


	7. I was born in the water and I was born of the water.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ― Louise O'Neill, The Surface Breaks

Martin wakes to the sound of urgent knocking on his front door. He rolls over and looks at his alarm clock blinking 5:22 am. He groans and ignores the knocking for a minute or two, hoping whoever it just goes away. The earliest light of the sunrise peeks through his window filling his room with a warm glow.

The knocking does not stop, and he hears someone calling his name. Martin grouchily makes his way to the front door, wondering who the hell it could be. It’s not like he has neighbors who would be asking for a cup of sugar. 

He yanks the door open and is surprised to see Sasha and Jon standing there. 

“Wha?” Martin stammers.

“Have you seen Tim?” Sasha asks.

Martin rubs his face, his brain still way too foggy to really understand what the hell is going on “no? Not since we got drinks. Wha- is he still missing?”

Sasha rubs her eyes, “Yeah, I-I’m worried. Sometimes he runs off like this, but he’s always back by sunrise.”

“Sh-should we call the police?” 

Sasha snorts, “no- Basira and Daisy should be enough on that front. It’s probably best to leave the cops out if possible.”

Martin now sees how Sasha sways on her feet, and the dark circles under her eyes; she must not have gotten any sleep last night. Martin looks past Sasha to Jon, who looks about as weary as he did the first time they met. His brow creased, and his body tired-looking as well. Martin steps to the side and says, “Here come inside, I’ll put on some tea- tell me how I can help.” 

“Thank you” Sasha sighs and walks in. Followed closely by Jon. The two of them take a seat at the island. Martin starts the tea kettle and pulls out milk sugar and honey for the others to use. They settle into an uneasy silence as they wait for the tea to steep.

Jon clears his throat and speaks first, “I saw some feathers out on your front lawn is that why you needed to call animal control?”

“I mean kind of” Martin laughs, “but that’s a problem for a couple hours from now. For when the vet opens up”

“What do you mean?” Jon asks.

“Well uh-” Martin stammers “there was a dog fighting an owl out there yesterday. The owl few off- uh, the dog is in the bathroom.”

“The dog,” Sasha says carefully and slowly stands up. “Was it big and black?”

“Oh uh yeah.” martin laughs nervously. “Do you know him?”

Sasha runs a hand over her face, Martin catches the smallest smile from Jon and Sasha says, “can you show me which bathroom.”

“Uh yeah sure thing!” martin says cheerily. He leads them through the house to the bathroom. He sees on the way the sun is now visible on the horizon. The early morning mist is clinging thickly to the ground, and a new day has started. 

Martin also feels a strange nervous energy from the other two, but he tries to ignore it. Tim is the one missing, why are they fixated on this dog? He thinks. No matter he opens up the door and looks in. He does not see the large dog. Instead, he sees.

Tim.

Sleeping on the floor.

Completely naked. 

“Timothy stoker” Sasha scolds.

Tim groans and rolls onto his back. Eyes blurry. Martin is gaping for a moment before turning away, feeling his face heat up. He sees Jon who’s face is a shade or two darker, and is also averting his eyes.

“I-I-I think I’ll get him some pants” Martin stammers and rushes off. Jon follows him to the bedroom.

“Martin I-“

“nope!” martin cuts him off “I do not want to talk about what just happened”

Martin paces around the room. There is no way to deny what he saw; no way Tim could have gotten into that bathroom without his knowing. And the dog couldn’t just vanish. Jon watches him with a concerned expression.

“We had to make sure you were one of us” Jon stammers, breaking Martin out of his thoughts.

“yes! I know that I just thought when you said ‘one of us, you meant gay!”

“I mean, we’re all gay too.” Sasha walks in, “that pare of paints go for a walk?”

Martin tenses and grabs a pair of joggers out of his wardrobe. Then gives them to Sasha. Soon enough Tim is clothed, and Martin is bustling in the kitchen. There are four cups of tea out on the counter, and a bowl of pancake batter is sitting next to the stove, along with a short stack of finished cakes.

“oh thang god” Tim groans as he sprawls out on the kitchen island, making grabby hands at the plate of completed pancakes. Martin rolls his eyes and pushes the plate and syrup to the other man. 

“tell you what,” Tim says between mouthfuls, “post-shift is like the worst hangover in the world, plus having the flu.”

“you’re such a baby” Sasha laughs.

“well, I’m sorry that not everyone is blessed with free changing powers.”

Martin frowns into the stovetop and takes a shuttering breath, “why aren’t you guys making a bigger deal out of this?!”

“well, you said you didn’t want to talk about it” Sasha shrugs “we know it can be a lot to take in. meeting a bunch of fay at once.”

Martin mutters in agreement. “So magic is real?”

“Yeah heh,” Sasha laughs.

“Bit anticlimactic way to find out” Martin laughs bitterly. 

“Well better than finding out by being stabbed by a unicorn” Tim interjects. He then gestures to himself, Sasha and Jon “long story short- I’m a werewolf, sash’ is a changeling, and Jon is a Mer.”

“ah- I think I understand?” Martin puts out another plate of pancakes sitting down with the rest of the group. “E-everyone else in the group too?”

“yeah,” Tim says, “Georgie and Melonie are witches, Daisy is a Selkie, and Basira is part Da Danaan. haven’t been able to figure out what her heritage is besides that, though.”

“a-and Elias?”

The three others share a look. Jon sighs, “a warlock of some sort- we, he- this is his territory.”

“meaning he’s a bit of a magical landlord” Tim explains.

“yes- that’s a good way to put it.” Jon nods. “his magic makes sure none of us are… discovered by either human or magic that we don’t want here. We also don’t have a really close connection to Fairy here, so we need him to give us some connection as well.”

Martin nods kind of understanding. “he’s an asshole though”

Tim and Sasha laugh and agree, Sasha chimes “ever meet a landlord who isn’t?”

Martin smiles and nods. “yeah I guess that’s fair. Jon and Daisy just work for him?”

“We both need a bit more help to… blend in” Jon explains.

Sasha rolls her eyes “yeah if the usual cost isn’t enough”

“what’s the usual cost?”

“he’s a warlock, so he has a boss, and he needs to feed his power” Jon starts “I believe he took payment from you yesterday. As far as we can tell, his patron feeds off of fear and suffering.”

“so sometimes he knocks around in your head and makes your relive your worst memories,” Tim says with a shrug.

“that’s awful!” Martin gasps. The three shrug and look uncomfortable. 

“yeah it does suck” Tim agrees “but it’s better than the alternatives”

Sasha frowns, “yeah it’s not like we have the Vox Phantasma running around helping us fay in rural UK.”

“so that’s it?” Martin asks and looks down at his plate “that’s the big mystery”

“I mean one of them yeah” Tim shrugs.

Martin looks up at the group “I think I can deal with that”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter, sorry it came out late had a flight on Sunday and I'm moving on Friday so I got caught up in logistics for that yesterday.  
> like I said before I might come back to this as a series with some one/two shots. if there are any stories or mysteries you'd be interested in seeing I'd like to see because i have a lot of ideas and idk which one i should pursue first. also shoutout to anyone who sees the reference in this- you will have a lot more context for the world this story is based in. though I would not call this a true crossover though, and I doubt it will ever be more than a passing reference  
> anyway thank you so much for the support this fic has gotten  
> love yall!

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to HMU on tungle thedegu.tumblr.com <3


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